


light down any road

by yeswayappianway



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 18:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/pseuds/yeswayappianway
Summary: Wayne grins. “Hey, G. Hi, Sid.” Sid gives a little wave. Wayne looks back at Claude closing the door, and says, “Great service here.”Claude is about to respond when Sid says, “I don’t know, the doorman’s good-looking, but he’s not very nice.” They’re both looking over at Claude now and Wayne seems to be expecting a retort. Claude just shrugs.“Can’t argue with that: hot but not very nice is pretty much what I aim for in life.”





	light down any road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elenajames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/gifts).



> hope you enjoy!
> 
> title from Box Around the Sun, by MisterWives
> 
> huge thanks to Dell for beta and general encouragement!

Claude doesn’t think about how his house smells very often, but when he unlocks the front door and steps inside the family lake house, he’s instantly struck by the smell. He’s transported back to being four with his parents, seven with his sister, ten with his whole extended family, fifteen with friends from juniors, and the feeling that he’s somehow stepped back in time intensifies as he walks further in and flips the light switch without consciously thinking about where it is.

Behind him, Sid gently closes the door. “This is nice,” he says, looking around. Claude grabs his bag back from Sid’s hand, smiling.

“You haven’t even really seen the house, you don’t have be polite yet.”

Sid shakes his head. “I’ve only been here a few minutes and you already make me hold all our stuff _and_ you don’t believe that I like the house?”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you for saying the house is very nice, I’m sure you really meant it.” Claude takes Sid’s bag out of his hand as well, dropping them both in the living room as he continues, “I’m also very sorry that I didn’t have three hands to hold the bags and unlock the door. If you’re done?” Sid’s laughing, and Claude takes the opportunity, now that they’re inside the house, to step in close and kiss him thoroughly. When they break apart, Sid keeps his eyes closed a bit longer and Claude gives him a light kiss on the tip of his nose. He wrinkles up his face, his eyes flying open, looking so much like an annoyed kitten that Claude starts laughing again. “Hi, Sid. Didn’t you miss me?”

Sid doesn’t even bother trying to stay irritated. “Yeah, I really did.” He looks like he’s going to ask something when there’s a bang on the door. Claude hurries over and pulls it open to reveal Wayne standing on the doorstep. Claude opens the door all the way, standing to the side and gesturing with a flourish for him to move inside.

Wayne grins, his smile wide and beaming, and he fakes a bow to Claude before actually walking in. “Hey, G. Hi, Sid.” Sid does a little wave as Wayne puts his bag down next to Claude’s in the living room. He looks back at Claude closing the door, and says, “Great service here.”

Claude is about to respond when Sid says, “I don’t know, the doorman’s good-looking, but he’s not very nice.” They’re both looking over at Claude now and Wayne seems to be expecting a retort. Claude just shrugs.

“Can’t argue with that: hot but not very nice is pretty much what I aim for in life.” Wayne cracks up, and pulls Sid in for a kiss, which Wayne immediately follows by ruffling his hair. He does the same thing to Claude, who sees it coming but lets it happen anyway. Greetings apparently finished, Claude picks up his bag and starts pointing out the different areas of the house.

He leads them up the stairs and into the master bedroom, where he throws his bag into the corner of the room in front of the closet.

“And that’s the house. There’s all kinds of stuff we can do while we’re here: we can go to the lake for swimming or fishing, we can go into town and go to some of the restaurants- there’s a great ice cream place, you’ll love it- or we can get something stupid for the backyard like a hammock, and I bet there’s cards somewhere in the house. Oh! There’s also a pretty cool park near here, I think there’s a good hike in it somewhere? It’s not what we usually did, but I hear it’s great.” Claude realizes he’s babbling, but he’s had a long time to think about this trip and he doesn’t want it to disappoint.

Tentatively, Sid says, “That all sounds really nice…”

Wayne finishes the sentence a lot less diplomatically. “There’s no way we can do all that.”

Sure, he knows that, technically. But there’s something so appealing about the idea of doing everything they can, making the most of their time here. They’re only here for a few days. All he manages out loud is, “Well, yeah, but we can try, right?” He’s rewarded with soft smiles, and Wayne saying, “Of course we can.” Claude doesn’t know how to express how much their indulgence means to him, so he just clears his throat and heads back downstairs, not waiting for them to follow.

Once he gets into the kitchen, Claude discovers an issue. There’s no food, which, of course there isn’t, none of his family has been here recently and he didn’t bring any. He’s closing the refrigerator when Sid and Wayne make it to the kitchen.

“So, just down the street, there’s a pizza place that’s been here for ages, and it’s really good.” 

He’s trying to sound like the idea just came to him but Sid immediately says, “You didn’t go shopping, did you.”

“Nope.”

Wayne laughs and rolls his eyes. “Lead the way, Captain.”

\-----

It takes a minute for Claude to remember where he is the next morning, but he figures it out soon enough. The dim, filtered light coming through the curtains on the window washes over the whole room. There isn’t really enough space for all three of them on the bed, but they’d decided to deal with it- they were only here for four nights, so it seemed worth it. This morning, wrapped around Wayne, Claude mentally pats them on the back for the decision.

“Morning,” a quiet voice comes from the other side of the bed. Unlike Wayne, Sid is awake, but he seems to have made no attempt to do anything other than just lay in bed.

“Morning,” Claude whispers back. The clock on the bedside table tells him it’s mid-morning already. He doesn’t think Wayne would mind getting woken up, but it seems wrong. Claude’s made it one of his life goals to give Wayne down time whenever he can, to make up for how often he relies on him during the season.

He can hear a faint rumbling noise coming from somewhere in the house, and he distantly remembers complaints from his parents about the noise of one of the systems in the house- the boiler? the air conditioning? It doesn’t feel noisy now, mingling with the sounds of Wayne’s deep even breaths and the slight rustles as Sid tries to get comfortable again. Claude props his head up on one hand and looks over at Sid, who asks, “So, any big plans for us today?”

He laughs softly, almost more of a breath, and shakes his head. Despite his long list yesterday, right now, Claude feels like he could be content just laying in bed forever. 

“Maybe we could go for breakfast, then?” Sid sounds hopeful, which makes Claude wonder exactly how long he’s been lying there awake. He thinks for a bit, and remembers that a place with good breakfast on the other side of town.

“Sure, sounds good. We can pick up some food for the house afterward.” Looking down at Wayne, he pokes him lightly in the arm. “Hey. Wake up. We’re gonna go get breakfast. There’ll be pancakes.”

Wayne turns his head toward Claude and opens one eye blearily. “ ‘M not Sid, can’t just bribe me with sugar,” he mumbles. Sid makes an indignant noise, but Claude brightly says, “If you’re awake enough to chirp Sid, you’re awake enough for breakfast. Come on.”

\-----

They’re walking back to the car from breakfast when Sid makes a soft, wordless noise. Claude looks back over his shoulder to see him staring at- a dog. Not even a particularly exciting dog, just a black lab mix of some sort, the kind every other family seems to own at some point. 

“Aren’t dogs supposed to point at things they find, not the other way around?” Claude wonders aloud.

Wayne gives him a light punch on the arm. “Haven’t you noticed? He’s been watching every dog we’ve seen today like it’s a chocolate cake.” Sid has clearly heard them by this point, and his face has lost the open longing in favor of looking annoyed. Claude is deeply and unfortunately familiar with Sid’s annoyed face. He’s also even more unfortunately into it, which means he’s never particularly motivated to stop Sid from being annoyed. Sometimes that lack of motivation doesn’t even blow up in his face.

“It’s not a thing, the dog was just cute,” he mutters. Claude exchanges a look with Wayne and shrugs. It’s easier to let Sid bring things up on his own. He gets pissy when you try to coax him into emotional discussions before he’s ready. Claude has learned this the hard way. Wayne gives him an unimpressed look before dropping back a step to walk with Sid.

“Sorry for pointing it out, but you have definitely been staring at dogs all day.” Claude’s always amazed at Simmer’s ability to sound reasonable and inoffensive when he wants to, partly because it’s pretty common that he doesn’t want to, and also because Claude has trouble sounding reasonable even when he tries. (Admittedly, he doesn’t try that often.)

“That’s not exactly weird. Everyone loves dogs.” Claude is attempting to seem unbothered by not looking back at all, but Sid sounds like a pouting kid. Also not as uncommon as Claude would prefer.

“I’m not trying to make fun of you for it, jeez, Crosby.” The eye roll is obvious in Wayne’s voice. “We actually like you, remember?” Silence. Being unbothered is suddenly much less appealing. When he turns back to look at the other two men, Sid doesn’t look annoyed anymore, he looks embarrassed.

“Sid, did you think we were mad at you?” Before Claude can finish the sentence, Sid is already shaking his head.

“No, no, of course not. I know you’re not mad at me. I just-” he pauses, swallowing whatever he had been about to say. “I just need to get used to you guys again, sometimes. I’m sorry.” Claude drops back so the three of them are walking side by side, and he moves closer, his shoulder brushing Sid’s every time they take a step. Wayne, after letting the moment hang in the air for a while, raises an eyebrow at Sid.

“Well, that’s your own fault for playing hockey so long. You could already be used to us for the summer, but no, you just had to go win the Cup.”

The expression on Sid’s face is priceless. He splutters for a second, and Claude is honestly eager to hear what he tries to say back to that, but instead, all Claude gets is a very quiet, “Oh.” He already knows what he’s going to see when he follows Sid’s eyeline, and sure enough, there’s another dog, this time coming toward them on the sidewalk. It’s small and brown, and is struggling to keep up with its (very tall) owner.

“Okay, that one’s pretty adorable. I’ll give you that.”

Sid elbows him sharply, and Claude is about ready to retaliate when Sid hisses, “Shut up,” under his breath. A few seconds later, Sid is smiling politely at the man with the dog, which is bouncing excitedly toward them.

Claude laughs at the dog’s enthusiasm, and looks up at the man. “You’ve got a really sweet dog. Are you ok with us petting him?” The man narrows his eyes slightly at them, a look Claude recognizes as ‘these people look familiar but I don’t know why’, and then nods.

“Yeah, I hope he’s not bothering you. His name’s Barry.” Sid is already kneeling down as the man speaks. The dog puts its front paws on Sid’s legs, reaching its head up to try and lick his face. Laughing, Sid tries to keep his face clean but gives up pretty quickly, wincing slightly as the dog snuffles all over the lower half of his face. Claude leans down to pet the dog, keeping his head definitively out of licking range. When he straightens back up, he sees that Wayne has been taking pictures of them. Sid stands up as well, thanks the man, and they start walking again.

There’s a few moments of quiet while Sid futilely tries to wipe off his face and then Claude can’t hold it in any longer. “You know you can just get a dog, right? Like, if you want one, that’s a thing you can do.”

“I would feel bad, I’d always be away and I’d just have to hire someone to take care of it all the time. It’s fine.” Claude exchanges another look with Wayne before deciding it’s probably not worth it to argue this one right now. He’s got all summer.

\-----

“Bullshit.”

“Why the fuck are we even playing this game? We’re not teenagers.” Wayne’s voice had been rising steadily as they played, so this outburst isn’t unexpected. They had gone shopping after their late breakfast, getting food for the rest of the weekend. After they’d come back to the house, none of them had been particularly motivated to go do anything, so Claude had proposed playing a game. Sid suggested Bullshit, even though Claude knew for a fact that he knew real adult games, but here they were. Claude can’t complain too much- it’s easy, and it has the added bonus of getting Wayne worked up for absolutely no reason. 

Claude smiles smugly. “You’re just mad because you’re losing. Newsflash, you’d be losing even if we weren’t playing a kid’s game, because you’re shit at cards.” Wayne nearly growls at that. You’d think that Sid would be the one whining about losing, or at least, that’s what Claude had anticipated the first time they played. But no, it was Wayne, while Sid seemed content to sit back and watch in amusement.

“I’m not shit at cards, _you_ fucking cheat at cards!” He can practically see the steam coming out of Wayne’s ears.

Sid chooses that moment to chime in. “Cheating at Bullshit is kind of the point of the game, though. So maybe you really are just bad at it.” He looks like he’s seriously considering the possibility, but the corners of his mouth are twitching very slightly.

Wayne throws his cards down on the table, pushing his chair back. “Fine! I’ll just stop- if I’m so bad, you don’t need me to play anyway. Jesus.” He starts to stand up, and Claude rolls his eyes. He’s so dramatic sometimes, which is hilarious because it makes Sid the chill one in the relationship for once.

“Oh, come on, Simmer, you know I’m just kidding. We’ll find something else do after this game, how about that?” The cards are face down on the table, which is the only reason Claude isn’t shamelessly looking at them. Wayne’s not exactly wrong when he accuses him of cheating, but Claude reasons it’s like faceoffs: if you can get away with it, then you should.

“Why?” His tone is flat, and his eyes are still narrowed at them from across the table. Claude supposes ‘because it’ll be fun’ won’t really work at this point.

“What if we raised the stakes?” Sid is looking consideringly at Wayne, seemingly trying to figure him out. Snorting, Claude responds.

“We aren’t gonna bet money on _Bullshit_ , Sid.” Sid’s shaking his head as Claude finishes dismissing the idea. Wayne hasn’t pulled his chair back up to the table, but he hasn’t actually left yet either.

“Not money, didn’t you ever play strip poker? Like that, but…” Sid seems to realize how ridiculous this sounds, but he soldiers on. “Strip Bullshit, I guess. Everytime someone gets caught lying, they have to take off a piece of clothing.”

Considering this, Claude frowns. “That could be a lot of clothes, though.”

“We’re all wearing a decent amount.” It had been relatively cool that day, so he’s right about their amount of clothing. Sid shrugs. “We can always quit if it’s too ridiculous.”

“What do you think?” Claude asks Wayne, who narrows his eyes slightly before bursting out laughing.

“I can’t believe we’re actually gonna play strip Bullshit, oh my god.” Shaking his head, Wayne scoots his chair back to the table and picks up his cards again. “Whose turn was it?”

Sid, surprisingly, ends up being the one to end the game prematurely. After they’ve all had to lose their shirts, he gives up and declares his intention to drag Wayne upstairs and blow him. Claude has a suspicion that may have been his plan all along. Well, he wasn’t going complain about the end result.

\-----

It was a relief to walk back into the quiet of the lake house after spending most of their second day with Claude’s family.

“Oh my god, why did I ever think this was a good idea? Maybe I’ll just move back to Philly full time and never talk to my family again.” Claude is making his way straight to the couch, so he can collapse face down and not have to make eye contact with anyone.

“Aw, come on, Claude, they were great! I really liked them.” The worst part is that he’s sure Sid is being honest.

“Yeah, that’s the problem!” Claude almost misses the couch as he flops. He knows he’s being dramatic, but it’s the only rational response to taking your boyfriends home to meet your parents and having them show said boyfriends pictures of you falling flat on your face on the ice when you were five. Especially when one of those boyfriends is an alternate captain of the NHL team you play for, and the other is Sidney fucking Crosby.

“I especially liked the baby pictures. You, covered in spaghetti? Perfect. Maybe they’ll send me a copy.” Wayne’s glee is evident in his voice. Claude pulls a pillow over his head. Maybe he won’t be able to hear-

“I liked the one of him dressed as a dragon for Halloween.” Sadly, he can still hear through the pillow. There’s a moment where he can hear the faint noises of movement, but he can’t tell what’s happening until he feels someone lifting his legs so they can sit down on the couch. Claude turns to peek out from under the pillow. Wayne is the one who’s sat on the other end of the couch, and Sid is lowering himself to the floor and leaning back against the front cushions. Sid has a weird tendency to sit on the floor, he’s learned, and he’s not really sure why. Maybe his massive ass makes it more comfortable? Claude resolves to ask later, since bringing up Sid’s proportions is usually a good way to get a fun reaction out of him.

Sid’s voice loses the laughing quality. “Seriously, I like your family a lot, Claude. I’m really glad we got to meet them properly.” Claude abandons the pillow, pushing it to the back of the couch as he turns to look at Sid. Earnestly making eye contact, Sid continues. “And it seemed like they liked us, too.” His voice rises at the end, turning the statement into an implied question. Sid’s head is at the perfect position for Claude to run his fingers through his hair, so he does, and Sid tips his head back into Claude’s hand.

From the other end of the couch, Wayne answers, “Yeah, they definitely liked us. Aren’t they great, though? Makes you wonder where he came from.” He punctuates this insult with a poke to the back of Claude’s knee. Claude sighs in resignation. He doesn’t know what else he expected. Making fun of Claude was practically a family tradition, so of course they fit right in.

Sid glances at Claude for a second, seemingly checking to see if he was bothered by this. Claude knows that despite his best attempts to seem irritated, he’s definitely got a sappy look on his face. It’s an ongoing problem when he’s around them. The small wrinkle between Sid’s eyebrows smooths out, and he turns back to Wayne.

“Hm, good point. Maybe something went horribly wrong when he was born. Freak accident?”

Claude groans and buries his head in the couch cushions again. “Why do I even like you two, anyway?” He knows his voice is muffled, but their laughter rings loud and clear in his ears. He keeps stroking his fingers through Sid’s hair, as Wayne rests a hand on the back of his calf.

All in all, it was a pretty good ‘meet the parents’ experience, Claude has to admit.

\-----

They’d eaten a lot at Claude’s family’s, so it had gotten pretty late before any of them had expressed any interest in eating dinner. Sid had unconvincingly said, “I guess we could make dinner now?” Wayne shook his head, and Claude had an idea. “There’s an Italian restaurant we always used to go to when I came here with my parents, we could go there? If you guys want. It’s pretty good.” Wayne and Sid had exchanged looks; maybe Claude hadn’t been quite as nonchalant as he wanted, but he hadn’t realized until just then how much he missed the routine of eating there whenever they came up to the lake. “Sounds good to me,” Wayne had responded.

They’re comfortably sitting in a booth now. Wayne glances at the menu before putting it down and turning to Claude. “What should I get? You’re the expert, right?”

“Well, we’re gonna go across the street and get ice cream afterwards, so nothing too big.”

Wayne levels his most unimpressed expression at Claude. “I think I can handle it.”

Claude shrugs. “Alright, then, but when you’re whining about eating too much later, don’t come to me.” Sid, who has been studiously looking over the menu, glances up at him.

“Is it really that much food? I mean, it doesn’t seem like that much…”

Considering it, Claude thinks for a minute. “Eh, maybe it isn’t that bad. It’s been a while since I was here, but I’m still not responsible for either of you if you eat too much.” Next to him, Wayne snorts.

“You, responsible? That’s pretty funny.”

“Hey!” Claude yelps, mildly put out. “I can be responsible! I’m a captain! Plus, I helped with Danny’s kids!”

“How are Danny’s kids, anyway-” Sid hadn’t finished the question before Wayne was hissing, “Don’t get him started, you’ll never be able to get him to shut up.”

Claude turns to face Wayne. “Excuse you, he’s allowed to ask what he wants.”

“Yeah, because Sid doesn’t know what he’s getting into, and you just want an excuse to gush about your step-kids.”

“Okay, first off, it’s weird to make jokes about me being married to Danny when I’m literally dating you. Second, they’re great! And they deserve-” It’s Sid’s turn to cut them off. “Maybe you could tell me about them later, after we get back? That way Wayne doesn’t have to hear about them again.” He’s obviously trying to placate them, but he’s also smiling.

Wayne raises an eyebrow at Sid’s expression. “Do you like listening to us argue?”

Sid’s smile gets wider. “Yeah. It’s comforting. I missed it during the season.”

Just then, a high schooler dressed in a server’s uniform comes over and asks, in one of the most bored voices Claude has ever heard, if she could take their order. The three of them order food, and as soon as she walks away, Wayne starts making fun of Sid’s food choices.

“It’s the offseason, man, eat something fun!”

“There’s nothing wrong with eating what I know I like.”

It was Claude’s turn to smile fondly at the two of them. He can’t believe that he gets to have this, to have them. Wayne had become his anchor in Philly over the last several years, and honestly he was lucky enough that Wayne could put up with him, much less that he’d clicked with Sid as well. Listening to them bickering over what counted as chicken pot pie, Claude wants to go back in time to his teenage self, and tell him that, yeah, you do get to bring a date here, just like Mom always reminisced about, and they’re the best fucking thing that’s happened to you.

Their food gets there remarkably quickly (maybe not so remarkably given how late it is and how empty the restaurant is) and Claude applies himself vigorously to his food before he can blurt out any of his sentimental thoughts. The other two make appreciative noises at the food and there’s a comfortable silence for a while.

As they’re finishing up their dinners, Sid speaks up. “You guys played well at Worlds, I watched a few games.” Claude is touched despite himself. He knows how stressful playoffs are and he knows how seriously Sid takes them, so the fact that he found time to watch them play is- nice. That doesn’t erase Claude’s disappointment in their performance.

“Yeah, well, not well enough,” he bites out.

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Come on, G, get over it. It’s just worlds, hopefully we never get another chance at it.”

Claude knows he should just let it go, but- “But I was captain. I wanted-” he breaks off. He’s not sure what he wanted, or how to put it into words. He’s also not sure how to say it in a way that doesn’t insult Sid, because a large part of why he had wanted them to do well was because it was yet another way he didn’t measure up. There’s a look in Sid’s eyes at the cut off sentence that suggests maybe he has some idea of why Claude didn’t finish his thought.

“Goddamnit,” Wayne hisses suddenly. They both turn to look at him. “I thought one was bad enough, how did I end up dating _two_ captain Canadas?” He looks genuinely disgruntled at the thought, while Sid bursts out laughing. Claude finds himself grinning as well.

“Aw, you’re just so patriotic, Simmer,” Claude teases. He looks over at Sid. “I’ll fight you for it next time?” Sid smirks back.

“It’s cute that you think you could win, but sure.”

Claude nods, and then adds, “But only if we’re gonna get gold. If we lose, that’s all on you, Croz.” Sid looks like he’s going to argue back, but Wayne stands up, grabbing their empty plates.

“Alright, that’s enough foreplay, boys, can’t you wait till we’re not in public?” He shakes his head and walks over to a trash can, dumping the contents of the plates into the trash and stacking them on the tray on top. Claude looks over at Sid, who shrugs, seemingly accepting the accusation. Claude can’t deny it either. Arguments between the two of them do tend to turn into sex if left unchecked for too long. It’s worked out pretty well in the past.

Claude offers, “Truce until after we get ice cream, then.” Sid’s eyes light up at the mention of ice cream. Claude still can’t believe how easy he is for dessert.

“Sounds like a plan.”

\-----

“Relaxing is nice and all, but we have to actually go to the lake at _some_ point, that’s why we’re here.” Sid’s rinsing off the dishes from breakfast, but he says it as if he were continuing a conversation.

“And here I thought you were here for the great company,” Wayne teases, coming up behind Sid with another glass. He gives him a kiss on the back of the head and dodges the weak elbow Sid throws in his direction. “Can you believe this, G, he’s using you for your lake house.”

“I don’t know, it’s pretty nice, I’d use me for my lake house too.” Claude, as the person who actually made breakfast that day, is exempt from washing up. He’s sitting at the table, enjoying the sun coming through the window onto his back. “Besides, didn’t you hear the first part? We’re being too relaxing for Mr. Trains-All-Summer over here. He probably wants to swim laps.”

“I do not!” Sid protests. He finishes up with the last dish and wipes his hands on the cloth. “If you two don’t want to, fine. I’ll go by myself.” The huffy tone is undermined by him not actually going anywhere, just turning around to lean on the counter and face them.

Claude raises an eyebrow. “And how are you going to get there, exactly? You don’t know where it is.”

Shrugging, Sid answers promptly. “I’m sure I could ask for directions.”

“Yeah, and then end up signing autographs for an hour,” Wayne offers cheerily.

Sid shudders a little and then says, “Okay, you win, I’ll wait for you.”

Claude is always amused at Sid’s eagerness to avoid the public eye- not that he blames him, really. It’s working in their favor this time, and Claude is ready to go to the lake too, now that the idea is in his head. “If you want to get ready, we can grab some food to take with us and head down to the lake. There’s a little inlet that most people don’t go to, we can head there.”

\-----

Claude almost gets lost trying to remember exactly where the road to this side of the lake is, but he manages to find it, and they park in the grassy pull-off at the end. There’s no other cars there, which Claude is relieved about, since he’s been mostly relying on knowledge that’s almost a decade old now.

Carrying their things with them, Claude leads the way down to the water. There’s a sparse layer of trees between them and it, and the water sparkles appealingly once they make it to the other side. He looks around for a second, trying to scope out the best place to spread their blanket, before deciding it probably won’t make that much of a difference and spreading it out in the sun, about 15 feet away from the water. Sid and Wayne aren’t much behind him, but they barely pause to drop their things on the blanket with him as they hurry down to the edge of the lake. Watching them, Claude sits down, making himself comfortable. Sid walks further into the water and then turns back to Wayne. It looks like he’s trying to coax him in as well, but Wayne shakes his head and wiggles his feet around in the ankle-deep water where he stands. Claude knows from long experience that the lake is fucking cold, so he doesn’t blame Wayne. As he watches, Wayne tentatively walks a bit deeper and then gets blatantly splashed. Wayne flails and looks indignant for a minute before charging after Sid, who laughs and tries to get away but falls over. Claude roots around in the bag of food until he finds chips. It’s not popcorn, but it will have to do. He leans back and eats a handful, watching Sid and Wayne mock fight.

After both of them seem to have been dunked completely, they look up at him. He waves back and puts the chips away. When he looks up again, they’re making their way back to him.

“Are you just gonna sit out here all day?” Wayne is shivering a little, but he’s smiling. “You should come get in the water with us. Our stuff will be fine, we can see it.”

Sid adds, “And that way we have someone to referee our race, because _someone_ thinks he can swim faster than I can.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Claude grumbles, but he gets up and strips off his t-shirt, grabbing the sunscreen off the pile Sid had dropped and spraying himself with it while they wait expectantly. When he finishes with the sunscreen, he tosses it back where it was and marches past them.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he calls over his shoulder. He barely makes it another two steps before Wayne catches up with him and puts him in a headlock.

“You’re such a little shit, why do I put up with you?” Sid laughs while Claude struggles to respond.

“Because you love me,” he manages, trying to extract himself from Wayne. He succeeds and races ahead to the water. Claude hesitates as the water reaches his calves, but before either of his asshole boyfriends can try and “get him used to it”, he splashes out further and plunges into the lake once he’s deep enough. Surfacing, he shakes his head and regrets his life choices a little. It’s really freezing.

“So, how were you two planning to race, exactly?” Claude crosses his arms over his chest, mostly in an attempt to keep himself from shivering.

Wayne and Sid look at each other and start scanning the water. Wayne spots something first, and points at a log sticking out of the water a good distance into the middle of the lake. “First one there and back?” he asks.

Sid seems to be considering arguing, but he nods. “Sure.”

Claude extends his arms out to either side. “Start by me, and if you cheat, I’ll laugh and do nothing.” They wade over to his sides and Claude says, “Three, two, one, one-half, one-quarter,” Sid smacks him upside the head. “GO!”

They both leap forward, splashing Claude as they swim off. Claude just stares out across the lake for a minute. On the other side, he can see several small groups of people, but since it’s the middle of the day on a Thursday that is definitely not the warmest day they’ve had lately, it’s relatively quiet. He can see the tire swing he’d broken his arm jumping out of when he was nine, the rock he and one of his cousins had claimed as a secret base one summer, the tree his dad claimed had been struck by lighting two separate times in the same place. It was weird thinking about the specific things people remembered. He doesn’t remember most of his birthdays from when he was a kid, but he does remember the time his sister had found a bug on the edge of the water and named it Roger.

He hears a commotion from where Sid and Wayne had been swimming, and looks out to see the two of them right next to each other, apparently spending most of their energy trying to bump the other out of the way instead of actually swimming back. Claude debates yelling at them, but decides they’re too far away and being too loud. When they start to get back within a short distance, they give up on trying to slow each other down and start properly racing for him. Claude holds his arms out again. They’re pretty much tied, so desperate measures are required. As they get within arm’s reach, Claude puts the hand on Wayne’s side down by the water but raises Sid’s up above shoulder height.

Sid splutters, trying some sort of weird dolphin leap and mostly just succeeding in splashing around. Wayne goes for a high five and misses spectacularly, smacking the water, but Claude reaches down and quickly pats his hand. “Oh, too slow, Wayne wins!”

Wayne stands up, giving him a proper high five while Sid protests. “That’s not fair!” Claude just shrugs and puts his arm around Wayne’s waist.

“Never said I was fair. Everyone knows Simmer’s my favorite.” “Wow. I can tell when I’m not wanted,” Sid grouses, and starts making his way back to the blanket, where he grabs a towel and spreads it out. He sits down, putting on sunscreen and grabbing for something out of the food bag.

Claude and Wayne head slowly in his direction, Claude having taken his arm away from Wayne, but walking close enough that Claude can feel the heat of his body next to him.

\-----

Squinting as he comes into the house, Claude tosses his keys onto the table by the front door and walks into the living room. He sits down on the couch, intending to lean back into the cushions and relax, but- fuck. He hisses in pain. A concerned Sid hurries into the living room.

“What’s wrong- oh. Did you put _any_ sunscreen on?” Sid has come up behind the couch where Claude is sitting, and as Claude tries to twist around and look at his own back, Sid puts his hands out, very gently resting his fingers on it. Claude can feel how warm his back is now that he’s paying attention.

“I did, but it must have washed off at some point. Motherfucker,” he swears again as he twists too far and the sunburned skin stretches. He hears Wayne coming in the door and sees him trying to carry all their stuff from the lake inside without dropping it. “Sid, help Wayne with the door.” Sid looks up, and immediately rushes over to Wayne.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t realize you were going to take everything.” Wayne looks a lot more stable as Sid plucks a blanket and the bag of food out of his arms, enough that he kicks the door closed behind him.

“I figured I could get it all. Which I did.” Wayne looks up to see what Claude can only assume are identical expressions of skepticism on both his and Sid’s face. “I got everything inside! And… then I had some trouble, but that’s what you’re here for.” Sid shakes his head, but turns back to Claude.

“Is there aloe around somewhere? Your back looks pretty bad, I’m sure it’s gonna hurt.” 

Standing up, Claude grimaced. “It already does. There should be aloe gel in one of the bathrooms, I think? We used to have some here, I don’t know if it’s any good now.” Having dropped all their things by the table near the front door, Wayne also comes over to look at his back and makes a face.

“That’s pretty bad, man. Did you put any sunscreen on?” Claude glares at him while Sid snickers from the direction of the back hallway.

“That’s what he asked me, too.” Claude knows he’s sulking, but really, how is it fair that he’s the only one who forgot to reapply sunscreen? They were all in the water together, couldn’t he at least have a partner in misery? Wayne goes to pat his back and stops just in time, awkwardly ending up rubbing his upper arm.

From the back of the house, they can hear rummaging. Sid reappears a minute later, triumphantly holding a bottle of gel. “Found some!”

Claude gives him a thumbs up. “I think I just want to take a nap. Inside. Safely away from the sun.” He heads upstairs, not waiting for the other two. He hadn’t actually fallen asleep by the lake, he’d just sort of fallen into a sun-warmed stupor, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the shore and the birds chirping and the breeze rustling the leaves of the trees. Now that he’s in the cool air inside the house, he can barely keep his eyes open.

Getting to the bedroom, Claude strips off his swim trunks, grabbing a pair of loose shorts and sliding them on. He briefly clears everything off the bed, smoothing down the sheets before stretching across it. The fabric is cool against his bare chest. A few minutes pass as Claude feels himself begin to drift off. His descent into sleep is interrupted when he hears a noise at the doorway and looks up to see Sid and Wayne coming into the bedroom, Sid still holding the aloe gel.

“Want me to put this on for you?” Sid asks, coming toward the bed. Claude nods, as much as he can without really lifting his head. The room isn’t dark, the curtains are open, but the light is off and the trees outside the window block most of the direct sun, so there’s a muted quality to the light. It makes the two of them look vaguely unreal, or maybe that’s got more to do with the fact that Claude is on the edge of sleep. Sid perches next to Claude’s shoulders and starts squeezing some of the gel onto his hands before rubbing it gently over Claude’s back. Across the room, Wayne is stripping out of his shirt and swim trunks. Claude hums slightly, enjoying the view. Wayne looks over at that, winking at Claude before poking around in the pile of clothes that’s accumulated in the corner of the room.

“All done,” Sid says, reaching over to put the gel on the bedside table and then standing up himself to change clothes. Wayne comes around the bed and sits against the headboard on Claude’s other side. He’s grabbed his phone at some point and opens it up to the same brightly colored cartoon game he’s been playing all on and off all year. Claude knows for a fact that he’s sworn to give it up three separate times and lasted about a week each time. Lifting his head slightly to squint at the phone, Claude says, “Do the greens, then the purples.”

Wayne frowns down at him. “You don’t even play this game, why are you giving me advice?” Sid has come back to the bed, and he cranes his neck to look across Claude at the small screen.

“No, the reds should be first, _then_ go for the greens.” His hand is planted on the bed right next to Claude, and he can feel his head slipping down into the divot Sid’s hand is making. Wayne looks exasperated.

“Weren’t you going to take a nap? Why don’t you do that?” Claude laughs softly. It’s nice to see Wayne getting annoyed at someone else for a change.

Sid looks disdainfully at the phone. “You’ll wish you’d taken our advice in a minute, but whatever.” He grabs a pillow from where Claude had pushed them onto the ground and starts to arrange it to his liking before he stops dead.

“Are those my boxers?” Sid sounds a little accusatory, but he does a lot. It’s another entry in the long list of things Claude thinks he’s supposed to be annoyed by, but mostly ends up feeling fond about.

Wayne looks down at the boxers he’s wearing. “Honestly, I completely lost track after everyone’s stuff ended up in a pile. That would explain why they feel loose, though.” He goes back to his game, which means Claude gets the pleasure of being the only one to see the slightly stunned look on Sid’s face. He can sympathize- the sight of either of them wearing his clothes always gives him a proprietary feeling. He would try to say something to Sid, but he’s too sleepy to be able to explain it properly, so he just reaches out a hand to him, laying it on Sid’s chest as he lays down and curls in toward Claude. He can feel Sid breathing under his hand, the steady rise and fall a soothing background. Wayne shifts slightly, and his long legs press lightly against Claude’s other side.

Claude drops off to sleep, comfortable between the other two men.

\-----

Later that afternoon, Claude wakes to light snoring coming from Sid and the sun peeking through the trees, throwing specks of light onto Wayne. Wayne doesn’t look up from his phone, but whispers, “Hey. Sleep well?”

Claude nods. Maybe it’s just because Wayne is actually awake and Claude is still blinking away sleep, but he seems so much more adult. Claude wonders how Wayne puts up with his ridiculousness sometimes, but then-

“I almost drew a mustache on Sid, but we didn’t have any markers up here.” But then Claude remembers Wayne’s just as much of a little shit as anyone else on their team. He whispers back, “It’s too bad, it would look better than his actual mustache.” Wayne smirks and holds his hand out for a fist bump. Claude obliges, and then starts the process of getting Sid up so they can do something about food.

Too many minutes later, they’ve finally made it downstairs and Sid seems to have properly woken up.

“So we’re actually making dinner tonight, right?” he asks, as if they aren’t already carrying out food to the back porch and the grill. Wayne is clearly thinking along the same lines, because he looks down at the package of meat he’s carrying and deadpans, “Well, I sure hope so.”

Sid sticks his tongue out, which, how is it Claude’s life that he thinks that’s cute? He keeps expecting to be over it, but Sid always manages to make him feel overwhelmingly exasperated at how much he likes him. Sid keeps talking indignantly. “I was _going to ask_ , so who’s actually doing the grilling?”

They all look at each other, and simultaneously volunteer. “I don’t mind-” “Oh, I can do it-” “Me, for sure-” They all stop talking at the same time too, and sometimes Claude can’t believe how couple-y the three of them are. When he actually stops to think about it, it’s one of his favorite aspects of their relationship. They shouldn’t be so similar, they _aren’t_ that similar, but their thoughts tend to run in the same direction more often than not. Wayne is the first one to speak up again.

“How about I take over tonight, and you both owe me one.” Claude shrugs: no reason not to go along. He carries his armful of food to the table next to the grill and sets it all down. There’s assorted vegetables and some bread and condiments: they had just grabbed everything vaguely suitable for grilling out of the fridge. The great thing about summer was that you didn’t have to plan ahead, though he’s sure if he said that out loud, there would be disagreement.

Sid followed him over to the chairs by the edge of the back porch. As they sat down, Claude remembers the other advantage of Wayne grilling. “Oh, we definitely made the right choice.” Sid looks up, and whistles as Wayne pulls off his shirt.

“Nice,” he calls out, and Wayne postures a little before picking through the pile of food. Claude smiles at Sid’s inability to look away from Wayne’s back.

Before Claude can join in on the commentary, Wayne holds up a few packages of vegetables. “How about kebabs?”

Claude offers a thumbs up, and Sid adds, “Good with me.” Neither of them make any move to get up, and Wayne gives them a disappointed look.

“I’m doing all of the work, is that it?”

They exchange a glance and look back at him. “Yep.” “I mean, you look like you have it handled. We wouldn’t want to get in the way.” “Too many cooks, and all that.” Wayne just shakes his head at them, and Claude holds up his hand for a high five, which Sid gives him. Claude settles back into the chair, leaning his head back and staring up at the sky, which is still bright blue and dotted with wisps of clouds. After about a minute, Sid gets up and Claude hears him asking, “Do you want me to help with anything?”

With minimal help from Claude, dinner gets made, and it’s fucking delicious, which Claude actually tells Wayne several times. He also didn’t know that you could eat a kebab in a sexy way, but it turns out Sid’s lips do the work for him. Claude had some fairly pornographic thoughts about his lips over the years before they got together, and frankly, not much has changed except that now the thoughts are enhanced by first hand knowledge. The long line of Wayne’s throat as he tips his beer back to drain the last of it is a compelling sight as well, and Claude spends a good amount of dinner happily distracted.

Sid’s turned his chair away from the table to look out over the back yard. He leans back and looks up at the darkening sky. Claude can see fireflies starting to blink in between the trees. He doesn’t think he could have imagined a more perfect night and he’s startled by how much this trip has lived up to expectations. He’d been worried that bringing Sid and Wayne back to the place he has so many happy memories would somehow expose it as less than he remembered, but it’s been exactly the opposite.

A soft sigh comes from where Sid is sitting, still looking out across the yard. Wayne shifts where he’s propped his arms on the table, and makes an inquiring noise back. Sid turns slightly to look back at them.

“I wish we could keep doing this all summer. I know you guys don’t want-” Claude groans. He knows where this is going. Wayne actually answers with words.

“We talked about this, Sid, there’s no way in hell we’re coming to your Cup day. We didn’t do it last year, we aren’t doing it now.” Claude chimes in, “We’ll win that trophy our goddamned selves, and then it can be your turn to pout and refuse to come to our Cup days, because you know you fucking will too.” Sid’s still turned somewhat away, but Claude can see that he looks a little disappointed. He sounds resigned, though, when he says, “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Claude looks over at Wayne, who tilts his head at Sid, and Claude nods. They’d talked about this a little when the Pens won. It was a lot easier to be gracious about losing when you hadn’t made the playoffs because there was a long time between the end of your season and the Cup final, and even easier when your boyfriend was the captain of the winning team. At least, this year, that’s how it worked out. Claude speaks up.

“Of course, that doesn’t mean we don’t wanna reward you.” Sid turns even farther back toward them and Claude raises his eyebrows suggestively. Wayne gets a glimmer in his eyes, though, and says, “I guess you did alright, Croz.” The disdain drips from his voice, but he’s grinning as Claude adds, “I mean, it’s only a modern record. Not a big deal, really.”

Claude can actually see Sid’s deeply instilled media training and modesty warring with his pride. Pride wins out.

“Fuck you two, I’m amazing,” he says with some heat. Claude throws his head back and laughs. He loves getting Sid worked up. Sid can be an arrogant bastard, and Claude will always prefer that to his bland media trained facade. He still remembers getting asked about Sid’s “I don’t like any guy on their team” comment, and he stands by his response. Getting a rise out of him means Claude is doing his job right, just in this case, his job is ‘rile up Sid until he’s ready to wreck them in bed’. Wayne is already picking up the remains of their dinner and starting to carry them inside. Sid stands up from his chair abruptly, quickly grabbing the rest of the food.

“Leave that stuff in the kitchen, I’ll get it put away. Wait for me up in the bedroom. I want that reward you offered.” He stalks inside. Claude’s never been so turned on by someone carrying condiments before. Wayne turns to him, licking his lips.

“He’s so hot like this. How do you only find people who get off on you being mouthy?”

Claude grins smugly. “It’s a talent. Besides, shouldn’t I be asking you that, since you’re one of those people?” 

Wayne shakes his head, but pauses to press an open-mouthed kiss to Claude’s neck before going back inside. His voice comes out of the house. “Obviously, spending so much time with you has fucked me up forever.”

Claude hurries inside, still grinning.

\-----

It’s Friday morning. They’ve been at the lake house for a little over four days, and it simultaneously seems like they’ve been there forever and that they just got there. Sid had set his alarm fairly early that morning, but they’d all been reluctant to actually get up. Claude dragged his heels through packing up his things and cleaning the house a bit. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Wayne was pouting. Now their bags are in the front hall and Sid is combing through the house one last time in case he’s forgotten something.

“Well, this was really nice,” but the way Wayne says it is so rote that Claude grimaces. He knows Wayne really means it, but at the same time, it sounds so fucking final that way. This isn’t final. Sid returns, carrying a single black sock.

Claude asks, “How do you even know that’s yours?”

“To be honest, I don’t, but I lose socks all the time, so I’m just assuming. If it’s yours, I’ll… I don’t know, mail it to you or something.”

Wayne laughs. “I think we can all afford to lose a sock.” Sid tucks the lone sock into his bag anyway. It would be stupid to get emotional over Sid worrying about a sock, Claude thinks. Of course, it isn’t really about the sock, when he lets himself think about it. It’s about all of them, and how much this week has meant to him.

“I know if we start talking again, we’re probably never going to actually leave but… this week was amazing. It meant a lot to me to have you here and I love you both a lot and I’m so fucking happy we actually had time to ourselves this summer.” As far as emotional confessions go, it’s not actually all that much, but Claude’s never been great at talking about his feelings. He can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, because he really meant it. Wayne almost looks proud of him, while Sid seems a little overwhelmed.

“Thanks for inviting us up here,” Wayne says, “and I love you too.” It’s not the first time he’s said it at all, but it still makes Claude’s heartbeat quicken. Claude’s not sure what he expects Sid to do, but he looks intently at Claude and says, “I had a really great time. And I do love you, too. Both of you,” he adds, looking over at Wayne with the same intensity.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Claude grumbles, trying to get the conversation back to a level he feels comfortable in. Somewhat mockingly, he says, “Group hug!”

Wayne and Sid chuckle but they also engulf him in a hug, almost like they’re cellying together on the ice. Claude feels like he should cheer. Instead, he hugs back, and when they’re starting to break apart, kisses each of them in turn. There’s a moment where it seems like they might just stand here, holding each other and trading kisses, but Sid draws away.

“Hey,” he says, getting their attention. “We can still talk, over the rest of the summer, even if we’re not in the same place. Also, we can always do this again next summer.” He’s got a little smile on his face, like he’s already imagining it.

“True,” Claude agrees and goes to grab his bag off the floor.

They move toward the door, Wayne lingering slightly. “Next year, we’ve got to make better plans. Give ourselves more time.”

Sid walks outside first, Claude waiting until Wayne leaves as well, and turning back to lock the door.

“See you in the fall,” Claude says. It will be good to get back to his regular summer routine, and he already can’t wait for next season. In the meantime, he’ll get to pester them over text, see what pictures Wayne will take, find out what app Sid doesn’t know exists this time, and it won’t be the same as being all together, but they’ll enjoy it all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to make a real playlist but i couldn't whittle this down, so if you're interested, [here's what i listened to while writing!](https://open.spotify.com/user/klandreadis/playlist/0GwHmUINHmI0LumrPk1Gmf)
> 
> also, if you want to come talk to me on tumblr at topcopbobrovsky or twitter at steelinstories, i'm always down for yelling about these three (and lots of other things)


End file.
